Asp
by SCP-blank
Summary: They thought everything will be good, better after the second war. But Harry Potter finds out that even with Voldemort dead there are lots of things that need fixing. But maybe not by him. Unspeakables, Peverells and Goblins.
1. The dealer and the accord

Longer texts in italics are flashbacks (or flashes forward). It would become clear later in the story what they're on about. Sorry for the (intended) confusion.

Main character in the first part is Harry. Other characters included are Mary Macdonald, Augustus Rookwood and Albus Potter. (Only one OC will have more attention - it will be a bad guy and only in the first part)

A.N.: Some angst in the beginning but it vanishes quickly enough. This won't be a sob story, don't worry. And some prophetic drivel at the end because I got bored...

* * *

**A**gainst lazy clouds and

**S**aphyre blue sky, emeralds

**P**retty, silently quiver.

* * *

**The Dealer and the Accord.**

_The vast field of yellow rapes, which was stretching into all for directions of the world, seemed strangely untouched by the society. There were no hints of farms that usually resided in provincial places like this, no farm animals pastured in the rapes._

_That was only the surface. The place seemed so ordinary, so simple that a part of human society that was ignorant of a large chunk of the world had no idea it was missing and even if they knew about it, they wouldn't care._

_After all, it belonged to a world they were not aware of. The magical world._

_The atmosphere was thickly charged with energy and had anyone of wizards, who valued knowledge and research above all, had been there, they would have pointed out what was obvious but not important to those currently about to engage in the action._

_Magic warded the field from muggles, maybe not even by men's wands but simply by it's evasive nature and the history that place held. Some thought it was because there were lots of magical creatures in the surrounding forest and that way they were the cause of pulsating energy all around._

_They were wrong. Very, very field, that was encompassed by the Black Forest, hosted a piece so essential that it required two oppositions to fight for it._

_Dun! Dun! Dun! The sound resembling drums echoed throughout the field. From west, huge shadows began to approach the field rapidly. It looked as though dark mountains were flying towards the field._

_There were some more mountain shaped figures further away on the ground - those that were injured in the battle before or simply did not occupy the frontier._

_There were wizards, riding the dragons (as they were those mountain resembling monsters) fearlessly, all of their faces solemn and collected, their wands were slashing the air, preparing to engage in the fight._

_Fighters on the ground varied even more. Some were disapparating and apparating at different places, changing their positions almost chaotically though never breaching the charm of Anti-apparition that guarded their opponents from surprise attack but also left them at disadvantage. In the centre of marching forces, a group of extremely attractive women advanced, their movement fluid and too fast for them to be humans. And they weren't. Though that's what they could be view for at first glance, they were Veelas, creatures not only of beauty but also of obstinacy and fury._

_Femme fatale incarnates, with their affect on men more deadly than even avada at times._

_And that was their opponents' forces._

_On the other side, stood the combined forces that opposed the brown colored soldiers proudly. Their forces were nowhere near as impressive. No dragons, no giants, no, it seemed, magical creatures at all. Even wizarding forces looked ridiculously small._

_Yet somehow they seemed unconcerned and were calmly circling one individual. He, a man with bright and twinkling eyes, viewed the action the yellow field was about to witness and smirked, not at all bothered by the destructive force that his fighters were about to confront. He seemed ignorant to the fact this was, undoubtedly, an uneven fight._

_"Marshall? Sir?" A controlled voice of one of his most trusted who observed the action from front lines was heard through the communication device - a coin fastened to a chain on his neck that acted as a transmitter and a receiver in one go. "The veela are about to breach the apparition ward."_

_The man addressed with such a title nodded to himself. Yes. It seemed that his opponent was even more arrogant now. However if he thought they could win this fight and the object by using seduction at it's worst, they were very very wrong._

_It's time, he thought and didn't hesitate as he pointed his wand at his throat to make his voice louder._

_"All elves... Engage!" The smirk could be heard in his voice._

* * *

**3rd of May, 1998. A day after the Battle, Hogwarts.**

Harry Potter was staring at the sunset's reflection in the Great lake with a mixture of feelings that were expressed on his face. Fist and foremost, he was relieved. It was just a day after the final battle and though he was still at Hogwarts at the moment Harry was left thankfully alone.

Harry had no idea how he could manage to be civil if the people, so excited that this whole night mare ended, continued to pester him but it appeared that as soon as the novelty of Voldemort's last and final demise had died out, they realised much still had to be done and scrambled home or to whatever place they thought they needed to be in.

Of course, that didn't mean the public had just gained some sense and was planning to leave Harry Potter alone. He just wasn't the most important thing at the moment when so many wrongfully imprisoned had to be released from Azkaban or when simple low-lifes that opposed Voldemort's reign (no doubt with Mundungus Fletcher among them) started celebrating their golden boy's victory by barging in the shops of magical districts and stealing stuff.

At the moment, Harry didn't give much thought to any of these events. Though he was relieved his 'destiny' was finally fulfilled and that he was still alive and free to do what he wished, Harry was grieving.

So many good people died in the battle, innocent underage students, like Colin, so many families ripped to pieces (_Tonks, Lupin... Teddy. Another orphan._), so many death eaters had escaped. Snatchers, low life criminals with less than admirable intelligence, who enjoyed Voldemort's reign, were walking free because, despite the efforts of those who fought for their freedom, they used the upheaval that took after the victory to go under radar.

There was guilt, also. But Harry was accustomed to that feeling even better than loss. Guilt was a good feeling, it gave him perspective to his own actions even if it made him feel like the scum of the earth.

But his mingled feelings weren't solely the reason why Harry was standing next to Dumbledore's white marble tomb at this late hour. No, he wasn't standing there to mourn the dead or just because he needed a break and this spot was the best to do so. Just yesterday he finished it all, and Harry Potter was already a man on a mission. To him, the task was not complete.

I just can't get a break, he thought bitterly as he gazed at the great lake. It wasn't as peaceful a look as it would have been during his schooling days. The shore was disrupted and professors along with those that stayed to help spent this whole day ''fishing'' the bodies out of the lake using help from mere-people. It was a sight to behold, Harry decided, straight from the nightmares or horror movies (_Not that I've seen one properly_, Harry thought absentmindedly) - monsters with tentacles throwing bodies to the surface from the depths of dark, mysterious waters, bloodied bodies reaching the shore, startled expressions on their faces. Some already munched in places by the lake beings... _I've got to stop thinking about it. Otherwise I might hurl._..

Just yesterday Harry Potter defeated Dark Lord Voldemort for the last and final time, and then he promised to Dumbledore's portrait to secure the Deathstick back into his grave where it belonged.

Now Harry wasn't too sure. Not that he wanted to use the Elder wand for his own gain (however tempting it might feel in his pocket, calling for him to use it more), but it seemed wrong to just leave it there, in the marble casket, unprotected.

Everyone who were present at the battle heard about it, freedom fighters and death eaters alike. Harry couldn't just pretend that it wasn't a security breach made because of his shortsightedness. It wasn't only the escaped death eaters Harry worried about. No. People lust for power, it would not be long before some lunatic decided he wanted the Unbeatable Wand for himself.  
Even Dumbledore couldn't part with the Elder wand, after all.

Those people who had heard about the hallows would have certainly realised what Harry was taunting Voldemort about. Wizards may be not the most logical lot but they were gossips. Who knew what ambitious bastard the news could attract.

That damned wand needed to be hidden somewhere untouchable and unpredictable or better yet be destroyed.

Harry's musings were interrupted by some one's chuckle. Harry turned around quickly, with fast quidditch honed reflexes drawing out his holly wand, a curse already on his lips.

But he didn't cast it. Damn that Griffindor chivalry (or foolishness), but he couldn't curse a wand-less woman who appeared to be the one who chuckled and interrupted him.

The witch in front of him was about forty years old and looked inconspicuous. Brown, graying hair, bright blue eyes, muggle clothes. Too plain, Harry decided, she managed to sneak up on me..._ I should've heard her. He was disappointed in himself. Constant vigilance! So what if you defeated a dark lord, it wasn't even a duel, more like a pissing contest... and you're already negligent._

Harry stared at her, taking in all of the details. There was something about her, but not her appearance, that attracted his gaze. He felt like he knew her from somewhere but at the same time didn't... He had seen her before, of that Harry was certain. Maybe in Diagonalley?

The woman who herself was blatantly staring at Harry, her gaze unmoving, wore a muggle coat and worn out blue jeans. With that appearance she could have easily melted in the crowd. _She knows about muggles enough to appear like one_, Harry realised. The middle aged woman's face was expressionless as she looked Harry with her gaze up and down. Only the eyes betrayed some emotion, she seemed to be somewhat amused.

"Harry Potter, interesting place you chose for a celebration." She said, her voice low and rusty as one of those people who enjoyed smoking or those who used their voice very rarely.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Sure, she could be another one of those who wished to thank him, but his gut said otherwise. She wasn't nervous in his presence, like many others who congratulated him. No so honored or thank you. No gushing. Besides, all the people, except some teachers had left Hogwarts. The repairs should start around this week and then all those who wished to help (like with the body fishing that occurred today) would go here.

Today's work, however, was done, the wounded were already transferred to St. Mungos, and the dead were given to their families. The Weasleys along with Hermione had returned to the Burrow. He knew Hermione was already planning about going to Australia, he remembered her talking to Kingsley (who only briefly spoke to them some time after battle) about an international portkey though Harry was distracted at the time. The Weasleys had offered for Harry to come along (somewhat halfheartedly as it appeared they needed some family time) but he still had so much to do there. They were grieving and he couldn't, wouldn't interfere.

He lost Fred too, and even more. Remus, Tonks...

There was no point thinking about them now, after all Harry was a man on a mission, and the newcomer had prevented him for finishing the (hopefully) last task he ever did for Dumbledore.

Harry didn't lower his wand as he replied to the mystery woman.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded confident while in truth he was anything but. Her gaze was quite unnerving. The woman almost smiled, her lips curling on one corner.

"It's not the first time we've met, you know. You were just a bundle when I fist met you." She looked at him searchingly. "Just how much you really know about your mother?" She asked.

Harry's heart clenched. His mother, the woman who sacrificed her life to save him. The woman who helped him again to muster enough courage to sacrifice himself. Harry couldn't handle it if this woman had come to tarnish it. He wouldn't!

Harry had already lost the blissful ignorance about his father in his fifth year, about Dumbledore who used to be equivalent of a grandfather and all that was good at one time to him.  
Harry wouldn't stand there listening to that hag if she came here to trash his mother's memory.

The woman interpreted his stony expression correctly and shook her head negatively as if saying she wasn't here to mouth off Lily or simply wanting to pacify him. He did, after all, defeat a Dark Lord, diminishing his reign for the final time. Harry wasn't sort of person sane people would want to cross.

"I'm Mary Macdonald. I was one of Lily's friends." She simply said.

Mary Macdonald. Harry knew that name. She was mentioned in one of Snape's memories.  
She's in the wedding photos, that's why she seemed familiar. But if this 'Mary' came here to gain something from him using a connection to his mother...

"How do you think Lily knew how to save you from death?" Mary continued.

On other hand you might learn something knew about your mother from her, a voice in Harry's that sounded suspiciously like Hermione whispered. He knew less about his mother than about his father. His father was one of the marauders and her? Did Lily Evans have only one Slytherin friend before he betrayed her?

That was hard to imagine.

"It was her love that saved me." Harry replied through his teeth and was annoyed at himself that he answered. Too trusting. Mary laughed at him, her laugh completely not lady like, as if Harry's answer was the most amusing thing she heard in years. Who knows, maybe it is...

"How many mothers love their children enough to die for them, do you think? To love enough to stand in front of a killing curse?" She let her answer hang in silence before continuing.

"They do it all the time. It's called a maternal instinct. It's burried deep in their unconsciousness - protect the progeny because on it depends the future of the society." Mary stated her voice calm and almost robotic, unaffected by the subject.

Harry thought about it. It seemed reasonable. After all, when Dumbledore always talked about Lily's love saving him it seemed as a superficial or sentimental babbling. And yet you swallowed it like a good boy. Mary waited for an answer, silently. Harry thought about what harm could listening to her do. He didn't have to tell her anything and any information about his mother was welcome.

"Go on." He said finally, his voice flat though he felt a bit antsy. There's obviously more to it.

"I told Lily how to do the Ritual as soon as she told me about being targeted because Voldemort for some reason wanted you." Mary continued. So mum didn't tell her why we were targeted. Perhaps not too close of a friend. "I showed Lily how to carve a double circle of protective Cymraeg runes on her body, use her blood and love for you to channel the wild magic, strong enough to create a shield that could avert something as powerful as Avada."

Said by anyone else it would have sounded pompous but this witch looked so unassuming so simple... And yet she talked about blood and soul magic, branches of Dark arts. Voldemort used it to create Horcruxes... _And to resurrect himself, he used blood, my blood!_

And this 'Marry Macdonald' suggested that Harry's own muggleborn and Griffindor mother used it.

His mother wasn't dark. She was pure, loving, light witch. Lily Evans Potter gave her life protecting him from evil and there was nothing more to it. He refused to believe otherwise.

He was right thinking this woman had come here to tarnish his mothers memory. Harry was about to leave so as not to curse her (I could secure the wand another time) but 'Mary's words stopped him.

"How do you think you kept your mind after a piece of Voldemort's soul stuck into you? Why do you think Dumbledore put you with less than acceptable guardians, Harry? The horcrux would have influenced you far far more. Dumbledore, though he didn't know what it was at the time, instinctively knew, he sensed that the curse scar you got from Voldemort could destroy you bit by bit and only a magic as ancient and potent as Lily's could protect you, even after Voldemort had your blood running through his veins. The blood wards around your aunt's house protected you as much from the outside threats as it protected from the inside ones."

She knew, she knew about the blood wards, about end of the tournament and about horcruxes. She knew even more than he did!

Either she's a member of Order, someone Dumbledore trusted yet let remain unnoticed or she's a Death eater!

"Who are you? How do you know these things? Show your left forearm or I'll curse you!" Harry exclaimed his wand pointing straight at her. Mary's lips curled a bit and she lifted the left sleeve of her coat revealing the unmarked flesh.

"You do know that not every Voldemort supporter was marked, don't you Harry?" She asked but the question it self seemed enough for Harry to decide she wasn't a threat at least this instant.

She knows dark magic, though.

"My name is Mary Macdonald. I became an Unspeakable right after graduating from Hogwarts. How do you think a mere muggleborn, no mater talented or not, got access to texts on blood and soul magic that even most pureblood libraries lack? Lily knew about my occupation and asked for help. And I did help." Mary said.

Mum must have trusted her if she asked for help... But if she's Unspeakable she must know about the prophesy. Either that or she's lying and is a dark witch.

"Why didn't you seek me out before if you were my mother's friend?" Good enough of a friend to give her information that saved my life. But it still was suspicious. Yes, Remus didn't look for Harry before he attended Hogwarts either but he still contacted him later. When a supposed mass murderer escaped to get you and Dumbledore offered him a job in the magical world, a malicious voice in his head whispered.

"I prefer shadows, Harry. And neither am I especially fond of children. Besides, had I contacted you earlier, Dumbledore would have found out about me and my involvement. He was master legillimancer, after all." So she dislikes Dumbledore... Or was it the other way round?

"I'm not a threat to you, Harry. I'm here to warn you." Mary said straightforwardly. Her blunt answer made Harry's gut clench in worry though he tried not to show it.

"Warn me?" Harry replied. "About what?"

"About your results of your idiocy, of course." She stated curtly. Then Mary looked around and slowly, as if to show she wasn't going to attack him, drew out her wand and waved it, muttering the spell Harry recognized as the silencing bubble.

Well, it's professional name was silencing ward but who cared for technicalities? If it looked like a bubble, it was a bubble. Though that particular ward was visible only the second it is cast and the moment it's canceled.

"How long, do you think, it will take for rumours to spread about you possessing the Elder wand? Those who heard your interesting and quite informative talk with Voldemort and who were intelligent enough to put two and two together, those who have any idea about Deathly Hallows, escaped death eaters and those on your side alike... How long will it take for them to start whispering about you being the Master of Death?" Mary's words mirrored his own previous musings.

"But they don't know I have the Hallows!" As soon as these words left Harry's mouth he realised what he admitted. _Gave yourself away, you idiot!_ However, Mary didn't reacted to his foolish admission, glancing at him as if she already knew.

"It makes no difference whether they know it or not. You defeated one of the most feared wizards of all time, of course they will say you had aid from ancient magical artifacts!"

"You don't know that." Harry disagreed though he himself was thinking alike and his protest sounded rather meek. People like Rita Skeeter would immediately catch on that straw of a juicy story.

"Oh, please. Everyone heard you flaunt the wand's alliance against Voldemort. And wizards like to gossip, especially about such individual like yourself. At some point someone would come and try to defeat you." Mary stated, some of the exasperation at Harry's thoughtlessness showing in her calm face.

"What exactly is your point?" Harry asked. Mary said she came to warn him, yet if that was the case he had an inkling she would have just contacted him though other means. "I prefer shadows" she said which meant she came here not only to warn him but also for something else. What does she has to gain?

"So many would want that power, yet you seem content not to use it." Mary answered, for a moment reminding Harry of Dumbledore and his infuriating mind puzzles and evasive speeches.

"I can secure the knowledge that Deathly hallows are in your possession from everyone, including your friends, so that only you and I would know." Mary stated. So that's why she personally contacted me... But it's crazy!

"How? That's simply not possible! You can't track down all those who heard about it and obliviate them! You said yourself, people talk, so how many of those who weren't present had heard about it already? And what about the escaped Death Eaters? How do you plan on tracking them when not even aurors can?" And why would you do that? Harry thought. There has to be a catch. There's always one.

"You forget that I'm an Unspeakable, I know about magic others have never heard of. I won't need to use something as crude as an obliviate to make them forget. It would take far more complex magic to do that, Harry." Mary answered. She's definitely not performing complex magic out of goodness of her heart.. Complex magic or Dark magic was what she meant?

"What's the catch?" Harry inquired, bluntly. And though part of him entertained the thought of that knowledge being secured he felt no confidence towards the capabilities of an Unspeakable (he was for the time being believing her) for such an impossible feat. After all, he and his friends were able to break in their department with little force or magical talent.

Mary smiled crookedly as if she expected him to say that. _Am I that predictable?_

"You really are your mother's son, Harry." Mary said though somehow it didn't sound as a compliment.

"There is a catch as you chose to call it. I will make everyone but you forget about you possessing the Hallows if you let me examine them. I will make an Unbreakable vow not to use them for world domination or criminal purposes, and to keep them safe and guarded." She smiled at him a bit mockingly. Examine them? Harry was conflicted. Yes, he didn't want anyone coming near the hallows but she was prepared to make an Unbreakable vow...

She's an Unspeakable. Who knows.. Maybe she knows magic that can get one out of an Unbreakable vow... But even to him it sounded too far fetched.

"Let me see, you make so that everyone would forget about me having the Hallows and you'll secure them and study them? Should I just trust you won't use the Elder wand for your own gain? What about the stone? It's useless, not to mention I lost it! And I would never hand over my cloak, vow or no vow." Harry exclaimed incredulous.

"Very well. What about I make an Unbreakable vow not to use the Hallows for my own gain and secure them, to make everyone forget about you being the master of death and promise you a one favour? How about that? And I won't even take the cloak?" Mary offered. Almost too good to be truth...

"How do you plan to make everyone just forget about what they heard? And why do you think I'll need a favour from you?" Harry pried further, distrusting. I'm not going to get fooled, not about something as crucial as this, not this time.

Mary sighed. _He's stubborn as hell_, she thought, _he won't agree unless I tell him every single thing. It would be less bothersome, if I simply.._

"I can do a Fidelius on the Secret of Harry Potter owning the Deathly Hallows. It's a modified charm from the same that was used to guard your home. Just instead of a location, it's information that's the secret. You can be the secret Keeper. I, as the caster, would know that you're the Master of Death but I won't be able to tell anyone that without your say-so." She explained. This is why I loathe children, nosy annoying brats. They shouldn't have such power.. Mary patience was running low, after all she was doing this as a favour and Harry Potter acted as if he was a goat, grown by Aberforth Dumbledore - stubborn, uncivilised and unreasonable.

"And everyone that already know, would just forget? Even Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked again.

"I believe that the information would loose importance in their minds. It would just drown down in their conscious. I'm quite skilled, you know. Besides, you should be glad I hurried to contact you. Other Unspeakables were already planning to ambush you and forcefully take the Hallows from you. You're lucky your mother was my friend or you'd find yourself somewhere in the Sahara desert with a nice thorough obliviate thinking you were a girl scout on an expecdition." Mary said and waited for Harry to ponder about it._ There's nothing to ponder about... Don't you see she's impatient?_ Harry asked himself inwardly. _It's perfect solution to the Hallow problem... But she could be a dark witch.. and could know how to get around the vow..._

Had Harry been anyone else he would have thought more about it but he was known for acting by his gut and his gut had, apparently, already made a decision.

"Fine. You swear the vow and make the fidelius. And then I'll give you the Elder wand and say where to look for the stone." Harry decided. Mary nodded. _Finally_, she thought,_ the sun's almost set_. _I don't have all night for this nonsense._

"Very well, however we'll need a binder, you know. It has to be someone you trust. I would suggest a house elf but I doubt you have one..." she said but was interrupted by Harry.

"I do!" He exclaimed, a tad too loudly. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "I mean, I have a house elf that Sirius left me with his will. But I never heard about house elf being the binder."

"It's not unheard off, just a bit unorthodox." Mary answered "But first, we need to go to more secluded place, someone from the castle could see us or sense the magic of the vow. Any suggestions?" She asked, knowing he would trust her only if he would be the one to choose the place. He looked like he was still weary about the whole thing, after all. _Post-traumatic stress disorder: hyper-vigilance, anxiousness, insomnia_... Mary's mind supplied. It was obvious that Harry Potter was traumatised and his behavior along with the bags under his eyes (who she knew where there but couldn't see because it wasalmost dark) suggested that.

"What about the Shrieking shack?" Harry suggested. He only now noticed how dark it was. We were talking for a long time and I didn't even notice, Harry thought.

"Fine. Summon your house elf and order him to take us there. The sooner we're finished the better." Mary responded and Harry nodded.

"I know. Kreacher!" Harry summoned and after a 'pop' the old house elf appeared. Had it been any brighter Harry and Mary would have noticed Kreacher was sporting quite a few wounds he got from the Battle he lead other Hogwarts elves.

"Yes, master?" the old elf replied bowing to Harry since he finally acknowledged Harry as his new and worthy master.

"Take me and my er.. companion" he thought the title was appropriate "to the shrieking shack." Harry ordered and Kreacher nodded.

"Yes, master." and grabbed both Harry's and Mary's stretched arms and apparated from Hogwarts grounds to the shack.

No one from the castle even noticed it happening.

* * *

The Shrieking shack was an abandoned house in Hogsmeade. It was said to be the most haunted house inBritain when in truth it was a house where Remus changed during the full moon when he was attending Hogwarts. _The most haunted house... And everyone is so scared of it even though ghosts are normal in the wizarding world_... _Hermione was right when she said wizards are illogical._

As soon as Kreacher apparated Harry and Mary there, Mary lit her wand, enlightening the place. _Snape died here just yesterday_, Harry thought numbly as he along with Kreacher followed Mary to the center of the room they found themselves in.

"This will do." Mary said turning around. "We need to combine our hands." She said stretching out her left and Harry took it obediently. "You need to order the house elf to perform as binder," she told him and Harry looked at Kreacher.

"Kreacher, have you ever acted as a binder? Do you know what to do?" He asked thinking that he himself knew very few about this vow. Kreacher, however, seemed to understand what was needed from him.

"Yes, Master, once Mistress has ordered me to bond an oath." The old house elf answered, proudly straightening out. Harry smiled wryly. Mary, though, looked as though she was about to start to tap her foot on the floor from impatience.

"Harry, you'll need to ask me, and I mean, ask me word by word, if I promise to secure the knowledge of Harry Potter having the deathly hallows, not to use the elder wand and Resurrection stone for personal gain or criminal purposes and if I secure them so that no one else could attempt to use them in a negative way while your elf will need to put his finger on our liked hands." Mary instructed him serenely.

"Can you do that, Kreacher?" Harry asked and Kreacher nodded stepping forward and stretching his bony little hand up so that he could put his finger on their liked hands. For him to reach both Mary and Harry they both had to hunch down a little bit.

Harry drew a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep the exact wording so nothing would go wrong.

"Will you, Mary Macdonald, secure the knowledge of me having the deathly hallows from anyone?"

"I will." said Mary as she watched the thin tongue of a brilliant flame to issue from the elf's finger and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire. Harry also was amazed having never seen an Unbreakable vow performed before but he quickly regained his posture.

"Will you, Mary, not use the elder wand and Resurrection stone for personal gain or criminal purposes or for world domination and promise not to attempt to gain the hallows' alliance?" He didn't need another Voldemort out there, after all.

Mary smiled as she replied "I will." and a second tongue of flame shot from the tip of Kreacher's finger and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

"And will you protect those two hallows so that no one else could find them and use them and promise to owe me one favour?" Harry asked finally, remembering Mary's promise to help him out one more time. He after all thought he needed to get as much from this deal as possible.

"I will." Mary replied not hesitating and a third unique flame shot from the Kreacher's finger, twisting with the others, and bounding itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a fiery snake.

After the flame died out and Harry ordered Kreacher to disapparate, Mary told him this was a perfect time to perform the fidelius charm.

"Since it's not a location but rather a piece of knowledge the charm can be performed anywhere." She explained as she took Harry's left hand this time and raised her wand. She took a deep breath. _I will have to lie all day in bed for this_, Mary thought.

"Amddiffyn y gyfrinach gan hud, yr wyf yn gorchymyn..." she started muttering in some strange language Harry have never heard before, waving her wand in complex motions. Harry felt magic surge through his core. The power was even more enchanting than from the vow before. Mary then started writing in the air "Harry Potter yw meistr y creiriau Marwolaeth." which he assumed was the secret of him possessing the hallows and as soon as she finished it, the words flashed before disappearing and magic surged through his body one last time and then it was over. Finished.

The Fidelius seemed to take a lot of effort from her, Harry observed Mary who was panting, her forehead sweaty.

"That wasn't Latin." He stated as she straightened out. _Is it the light playing tricks or does her hair look greyer?_

"No, it wasn't." She answered though not bothering to explain more. "Now could you carry out your part of the deal?" Mary demanded and Harry took out the Elder wand from his pocket. She took it in her hands looking at the wand carefully for few seconds before she put it inside one of her coat pockets. Then she looked up.

"Where's the stone?" Mary asked and Harry thought about how to tell her. She know you lost it, she won't flip out. She made a vow, and filled a part of the deal, now's your time.

"I lost it when I was walking to the clearing in the forbidden forest where Voldemort had gathered his death eaters before the second attack." Harry answered as specifically as he could. He was about to offer to help look for it in tomorrow's daylight but Marry cut him out.

"Here's my contact. Use it only when you'll need help deperately.. And I have no doubt that there will be such time." Mary said and put a piece of paper in his hands. Harry looked at it. It was simple piece of parchment with a row of numbers on it.

A telephone number. Harry looked up to ask her about it but Mary was gone.  
Vanished without a trace or sound.

_That's textbook enigmatic._ Harry thought, inwardly surprised by his own vocabulary.

* * *

**4th of May, 1998. Grimmauld Place, London.**

Grimmauld place was mouldy, dark and quite weathered by the death eater who managed to gain access to it from Hermione's mistake. By the looks of it, it was obvious that Death Eaters set whole hallway on fire. Instead of cobwebs and fading wallpaper adorning it, all surfaces were sooty, there was a layer of ashes on the floor. Even the portrait of long-dead Mrs. Black didn't stay untouched. However, it seemed like the Death eaters were unable to get in further as the burn marks stopped just at the end of the entry hall where was the entrance to the dining room.

When Harry returned to this place last night, Kreacher proudly exclaimed that he was the one who saved the ancestral Black house. Had Harry been in his right mind he would have assumed it was filled with Death Eater traps and at least would have instructed Kreacher to make sure it was safe before he went there to sleep but he was still a bit shaken from the encounter with the Unspeakable and events that followed it.

Harry apparated to former Head quarters and went to the bedroom he had occupied in his summer before the fifth year. He didn't want to sleep in Hogwarts because the other war victims were there. Orphans and newly homeless were flooding Hogwarts, despite the rebuilding. There was no piece at Hogwarts and Harry couldn't go to the Burrow because Weasleys were grieving for Fred and the wound was just too fresh. In a few days the funerals would start and a memorial was planned but until then Harry tried as much as he could to avoid others - it's only been a few days and he thought that getting rid of the wand was his priority. With how it all was developing, it was obvious that Harry couldn't reveal anything to his friends so it was best to avoid them for a bit.

With all these thoughts in his head Harry headed to the bedroom. As soon as Harry reached the pillow he slumped and was dead to the world.

* * *

"EERH!" The screech rose Harry Potter from his sleep immediately. The noise was so sudden and alien that Harry instinctively drew out the wand from bellow his pillow and fired a stunner however even bespectacled he saw no attacker. Harry swiftly summoned his glasses from the nightstand and the flew to his hand.

What he saw bemused him. His mysterious intruder was not an invisible wizard but an envelope, floating just few meters in front of him. The envelope was similar to a Howler but it was making noise even without anyone opening it.

Harry quickly rolled out of bed and went to the envelope, stopping himself from opening it at the last moment.

"Kreacher!" He summoned the elf and the elf appeared "Check this envelope for any curses, please." Harry requested while thinking that he had to learn diagnostic spells himself and it was just one more proof just how inept at magic he really was. Hermione would surely know.. She had to deal with hate mail before.

But since Hermione was not there (she probably already reached Australia) Harry had to take second best option. And just like that Harry felt ashamed as he realised that not only he thought of Hermione as a tool for him to use but he had also compared her to a house elf.  
However he wasn't able to think more on the subject as Kreacher handed the envelope to Harry and told him that it was not a cursed note but a notice from Gringotts.

_More problems... And I forgot about our break in entirely! They probably want my head on a spike.. Maybe they sealed my vault!_

Harry nervously opened the envelope, taking out the piece of parchment. On left top corner there was a Gringott's emblem. Surely enough the letter was addressed to him. It was worded subtly (not like goblins at all) but the message was obvious. Goblins held him entirely responsible (probably because neither Ron nor Hermione - his accomplishes had any money at the bank) for the 'theft' and demanded him not only to compensate all of the damage but also be tried because apparently he caused a death of one goblin (Griphook, incidentally). If he refused to cooperate, they wrote, he would be hunted by Goblin assassins and all his money would be sealed.

Dread and fear gripped Harry despite himself and he stumbled a bit as he comprehended just what the situation was. He didn't particularly cared about money but loosing all of it was out of the question - he knew what was it like to be poor and he didn't want to depend on anyone.

More importantly Griphook's death (which made Harry more guilty) meant that from goblins' point of view he not only broke into the unbreakable bank, damaging their pride but also killed one of their own. It was unlikely that they would convict him as innocent.

_Bloody mess... Shit! shit! shit! What am I going to do?_

The letter said that he had time until May seventh. Harry knew nothing about goblins and had no idea how to go about it. The only hope he had was Bill Weasley.

He had two days to figure it out.

* * *

**4th of May, 1998. Shell cottage, Cornwall.**

The shell cottage looked just the same as it did when Harry visited it the last time. He was going there hoping that Bill was there and not at the Burrow. He was still somewhat reluctant to face all Weasleys. He blamed himself for Fred's death and wasn't dealing with it. How could he, if all these things kept happening to him.

He reached the cliff side and went to house. Just as he was about to knock on the front door it opened revealing a wrinkly face of great aunt Muriel. _What is she doing here?_

The two regarded each other with suspicious eyes before she spoke.

"You look even more clueless than in the prophet. A hero.. Humph." She snorted but let him in.

"Is Bill inside? I need to talk to him, madam." The old witch glared at him as she went to the kitchen. The whole cottage was silent and it made Harry more uneasy than he already was.

"You need to talk to him? I had no idea great Harry Potter was such good friends with William." She said sarcastically making Harry wince. "You must be in trouble then." She stated as she pointed her wand to the kettle to boil some water.

Harry stopped himself from grimacing and replied. "Please, madam Muriel, tell me were Bill is. It's urgent. I wouldn't disturb him otherwise. Fred.." He stopped, his hands were clenched to fist and they were shaking. Muriel, who noticed that Harry used her name - meaning he knew about her, which was interesting to the old witch, saw the guest was quite distraught. He was quite different from what she pictured him to be. Genuine..

"Did you know my house was burned, Potter?" She asked, distracting him from his thoughts. "I had to come _here_." Her voice held obvious distaste. "William and other Weasleys are at the Burrow and they're mourning. It's a private affair and whether or not you really are as close as they say to them, you better stay away until the funeral is held." Muriel said curtly and pointed the kettle to start pouring water into tea-cups.

"Here." She said thrusting one tea cup into Harry's hands. He seemed abashed and guilty but also frustrated. They stared at each other for some time before he sighed and took a sip.

"However, I can help you." She stated, shocking Harry into inhaling the tea. She hid her smirk as she watched Potter cough. After a while he replied.

"Why would you? And how do I know that I can trust you?" immediately as he said that he realised how stupid of him it was. Muriel, however, seemed unaffected.

"What is the problem?" She inquired ignoring his previous questions and after a while Harry relented (the exhaustion was catching up with him).

"Goblins, it's the goblins, madam." And he thought she would declare it impossible to help him but Muriel just smirked and leaned in.

"Well, Potter, it seems like you are quite fortunate. I happen to be an expert when it comes to goblins."

* * *

**7th of May, 1998. Gringotts bank, London.**

Dudgeon was sitting in the waiting room. There were few customers at the moment, as the war just ended and people somewhat still avoided coming to magical districts. The repairs that were ongoing in the bank also were bad for business. As it was, Dudgeon was playing a crossword from goblin monthly magazine. As most goblins lived near Gringotts, in an area inaccessible to humans, and their population in Britain was not particularly large, there was only one magazine they published, a monthly one full of stock market numbers and suggestions to what was more profitable. Dudgeon was in the middle of writting his answer for twelfth question (Where is the spot and human's body that if pushed makes them unconscious?) when the recently recast security sensors alerted him that a new person had came in but he saw no-one. An invisible human... probably one who wants to attempt to repeat Potter's stunt. However before he could alert others as piece of parchment appeared on the counter. Dudgeon looked at it.

_I apologise for the anonymity but I wanted to be undisturbed. I am here upon the request of Gringott's elders. Please inform them I have arrived for the negotiations and I mean no threat._  
_H.J. Potter._

Dudgeon's eyes widened. He was still inexperienced at the job - they took him from academy because of the lack of workers because of the repairs. But this! Harry Potter was requesting an audience from the Elders?

The young goblin cursed in Gobbledegook and alerted the elders. Why did it have to be him that Potter chose to speak to! Now he would be under suspicion as well.

* * *

Briarfang was the goblin currently in charge of the bank and he was quite satisfied with his position. However the state his bank was currently in was horrible. All because of one filthy wizard who now stood before him, seemingly not fearing for his fate at all.

The two of them were standing in a room, decorated in solely marble, a room that always was used for private meetings and deals between goblins and their customers. There were other five goblins who were sitting at the huge marble table in the center of the room.

Potter seemed confident and not afraid even in the slightest despite the blades that were put in his eyesight on the marble table and despite he was outnumbered and in the 'enemy territory'. His posture annoyed goblins even more.

Harry had stopped himself from running from this place more than once. No matter how he appeared, Harry was panicking on the inside and desperately hoping that Muriel's advice (more like instructions) would save him. The only reason why Harry seemed so calm was because Muriel brewed a Confidence concoction.

* * *

**4th of May, 1998. Shell cottage, Cornwall.**

When he explained his situation, Muriel told him to write letter to Dodge to ask for his copy of a book that sounded relatively boring and unrelated. Dodge, the gullible old man that he was, jumped in the chance to help Harry. And so as soon as the book arrived, Muriel dove into it.

She explained in passing that the book, simply called 'Wizengamot, the new council' was invaluable and that it was one of the books that were lost in the fire. It was an old, dusty book, written by hand or dicto-quill at least and it contained every thing there was to know about Wizengamot, or wizards courts in general. This to Harry seemed like a waste of time and that it had nothing to do with goblins and when Harry exclaimed that to Muriel he found out not to underestimate witches over hundred.

"This book is rare and even more rarely used. My copy was one of the few and I am sure that Dodge, the idiot, got it from Dumbledore. Don't let the title fool you." She opened the huge book, reminding Harry of Hermione and how she would exclaim it's an easy reading to her.

Muriel searcher for some page and then stopped.

"It's a chronicle. Wizengamot was not always a court, or, that is, in seventeenth century there were more than few reasons for it. One of them was to discourage goblins from rebelling." The old witch said, pointing her bony finger at the date in the corner of the page.

"1631?" Harry read the year, looking at Muriel questioningly. "Didn't rebellion ended around this time?" He asked unsure and Muriel chortled.

"Rebellion? There were more than one rebellion, you simple-minded leprechaun. Is there anything you now about this world at all?" Harry was about to retort that Binns wasn't the ideal history teacher but Muriel continued. "1631 is the year Wizengamot made the Wand decree official. That's the year when the rebellion ended. Treaties were made and I am confident that if there's anything that can help you from this mess, it's written here."

* * *

Maybe it was careless to place such trust in an old witch, a chatty witch who was unpleasant and liked to gossip but there was no one else and Harry couldn't afford to waste time. And so the two of them (mostly Harry as Muriel was content to just berate him from his appearance or posture) read the chronicles. It took time to find what could be useful in Harry's situation because of the style the documents were written. there was a lot of juridical mumbo-jumbo that was incomprehensible for Harry and the language itself was outdated not to mention there were few smudges here and there, making it difficult to decipher. Harry was grateful that they only had to read that particular year.

Muriel explained that every treaty made between wizards and goblins before 1631 was null and void because it was one of the Wand decree clauses. They only had to find treaties that were made between wizards and goblins during 1631.

* * *

**7th of May, 1998. Gringotts bank, London.**

"I apologise, head of Gringotts" Harry spoke first, not waiting for goblins to show common courtesy and offer him to take a seat "for my entrance but I was concerned due to public reactions." Head of Gringotts only sneered and sat down at the table, putting his blade in his hand.

"Mr Potter, you seem to be aware of your current status." Goblin said curtly. My status as a thief, you mean? Harry thought inwardly but didn't interrupt. "You have no other choice than to consent and cover the damage you caused. You just need to write your name here and the withdrawal will be made. Only then will we discuss the date of the trial for your crimes against the goblin nation." Briarfang pushed a piece of parchment and a quill towards Harry. Is that a blood quill? So they can't remove money from my vaults without my consent but they can freeze them? Interesting.

"Head of Gringotts, you must be unaware of all facts." Harry replied boldly, with words Muriel instructed him to say.

"What facts!" One of goblins snarled but others hushed him.

"The vault I entered" it sounded much more better than broke into "belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Mr Potter, we know that already but this had nothing to do with us. Goblins were neutral in this war you had and Lestrange is only a client." Briarfang was running out of patience. The vermin dared to talk to him like that...

"That is untrue." Potter stated, invoking angry shouts in Gobbledokk "The vault contained an object that added power to Voldemort. In addition to that, one of your goblins allied with him and gave information about my escapade." Muriel was adamant that he would not use words as break in or theft at all. If you want to save your skin, you need to fight dirty, that's what she said. "By this you broke the forty-second treaty of 1631 which states that" Harry took out the piece of parchment and read it out loud "Both sides swear on their blood to never take part in individual wars of each other actively, i.e. any participation would be regarded as action against the victimised government and result in negation of guilty party's privileges." He cited and looked up to see their faces. Goblins seemed frustrated, especially the one who cried out before but Briarfang was looking at Harry as if assessing him anew. Maybe he thought that he underestimated Potter and now was forming second opinion. Or maybe he just was occupyed thinking about how he would get rid of Harry.

"Is there a way you can prove this theory." Briarfang inquired his gaze cold and calculating.

"Yes. I can give my memories of the event."Harry answered but the angry goblin interrupted him

"That's no proof at all, you'll fake it!" Muriel told me they distrusted wizard magic.

"I can also make a vow on my life and magic that it is completely true." He paused taking a breath. He was on thin ice here. "It will be more than enough for Ministry of Magic to revoke the treaty. You will loose all the rights to wizard gold." This caused a ruckus between goblins and the one who cried out earlier came running towards Harry, his blade raised above his head.

* * *

**7th of May, 1998. Shell cottage, Cornwall.**

Muriel Prewitt, over hundred year old witch was pacing in the drawing room of the cottage that didn't belong to her. A temporary refugee. She chose, after the fire that occurred at her house, just after the final battle ended, to come here.

The fire was caused by enraged George Weasley who barged in unannounced to take his and his recently deceased twin's things and because of his inculcated moves (he started throwing things left and right, even at her) some of his creations were inflammable and caused her home to burn down to ashes.

She didn't tell that to Potter and judging by his reactions he had no idea about it. Muriel understood the rage and devastation George felt but she also was angry beyond words at the way he vandalised her place. Place were they stayed and hid.

This was one of the reasons why Muriel monopolised Bill's house and why she didn't plan to go to Fred's funeral, not that Potter knew anything about that.

She thought before that Harry Potter was just a lad with no power add to his name but after meeting him she concluded that even if he wasn't the perfect hero, he was better than nothing and, more importantly he was popular with public at the moment and it was useful to have him in her debt (as this was the condition of her help).

But now Muriel, despite the fact that she herself often wondered if she had a stone heart, was worried.

Harry Potter was yet to come back from his meeting with goblins and it was almost evening.

"He fouled it up! I carefully told him what to do and he still boggled it. Bloody mess, this is!" She cursed to herself and waggled on her ancient legs to the kitchen of the crampy cottage to search for firewhiskey.

* * *

**7th of May, 1998. On the shore of Lake Michigan, State of Wisconsin, USA.**

At the same time as Harry Potter was drinking his sorrows at Hog's head after quite instense but nevertheless succesful meeting with goblins and enraging the old hag of a woman, Aunt Muriel, at different time zone an event was occurring that will shape the world differently...

The mansion, sophisticated and eye catching roamed at the side of the shore of one of the Great Lakes like a silent, patient guard. It's marble exterior and colons not unlike the roman ones along with detailed ornaments all over windowsills spoke of wealth and even pomposity. It was surrounded by bushes, neatly trimmed into forms of hounds, there was even a green chimera further back.

Though usually such houses were circled by high fences, this one had no physical barrier guarding it from unwelcome strangers. That, however, didn't mean there was nothing that guarded this place.

If a muggle, a non magical person with no previous knowledge of the house would have walked by three hundred yards away from the house they would simply decide to go the other way and not see the magnanimous building.

And if a wizard showed up somewhere near, the wards surrounding it would immediately alert the beings that protected the place in case the wizard had bad intentions.

At the moment, though, there were no guests about. It was eerily quiet until the entrance - huge, black oaken doors - opened too quickly for it not have been assisted with some power and a body was flung out of the house, a bag following it.

The boy that was just thrown out of the mansion struggled for some time to manage to stand up despite the aching muscles and bruises that covered his body. He was in mid teens, at least, and had a sharp, pointy face, his hair the colour of hay in hot summer and his eyes were dull and empty as he glared back, once he stood up, to the person who had just thrown him out of his home.

"Finally no filth in my abode." The woman, tall, curvaceous and with silky, curly blond hair that reached her mid thighs had spoken, glee and satisfaction obvious in her voice.

It took some time for the boy to gather his wits before he shot back to her. "You're the only filth in here, you harpy!" His reply didn't seem to register in her mind at all as the new Lady of the Mansion, Lady of the Family cackled, delighted with the situation.

"Oh! If only my dear husband knew what I was doing to his freak of a firstborn..." The woman's face shone and her eyes - deep dark green looked straight at the boy who tried and failed to cover his shudder.

"Stop it! Stop it, you whore!" He exclaimed, picking up a stone from the ground and throwing it at her in hope it would make the Lady to stop her mental abuse. She flicked her wand that appeared seemingly out of nowhere with her left hand and then she straightened even more, holding her head high, almost radiating self righteousness and power.

"You do not have the power to command be, squib." There was mad glint in her eyes as she continued staring at him piercingly. "Your father is dead and he has no power to stop me from ridding of your cursed existence now, when he's in the beyond. You are no longer in family, I, the Lady of the House command it." There was authority in her tone and the boy, hands in shaking fists, grunted out.

"You'll pay for this.. You'll all pay for this!" And then he turned around and, ignoring the reanimated hounds from bushes that followed his steps, he disappeared from the mansion once and for all. Never to return as helpless and powerless squib.

"I'm rather looking forward to it, my dear son." There was underlying venom in her voice and she closed her eyes for a moment as if basking it all in - the boy's despair and anger, her own satisfaction over her victory and the faint remembrance of death of her 'dear' husband, by her hand, nonetheless. "Even if there's nothing your weak, pathetic existence could do to me."

Oh, but she was wrong. The Lady Adams, from long line of pureblood wizards that abhorred anything that could damage her family's reputation, a lady that was known not only as one of the senators of the Lord House but also for her numerous accomplishments in magical theory and spell crafting, a Lady that was known for her seductive beauty as much as for her brains was wrong.

Her son, the one she had just disinherited once and for all, a powerless and weak squib, as she put it, was going to get his revenge one day. He might have been non magical but hate and rage were weapons themselves and if there was something he shared with the rest of his snobbish and pureblood supremacist of a family was obstinacy.

Mars shone brightly on the day Joshua Adams was born and Mars was going to lead him till the day he died.

* * *

TBC...


	2. The Witch hunt

Asp. Part One. Contradictory.

A.N.: Sorry for the wait. I was reluctant to post the second chapter but here it is. Unlike in previous chapter, the 'poem' in this one is my own so any mockery is welcome.

* * *

**Chapter two.**

**The Witch hunt.**

_The room was circular and medium in size, it was neither wide nor tall. There were no entrances or windows in that space, making the room resemble an inside of a giant safe or a gap between an even block of stone, like a gap made by a bubble of gas in a cake._

_The surface was made from black marble, shining dimly in the weak light. The only sources of illumination were about a dozen of candlesticks, ignited and floating high above the heads of people who were occupying the room. The candlesticks formed a pentagram and the six people in that room were seated accordingly, right bellow each point of the sign.  
_

_Five of them were non-descriptive. Their robes were plain black and their faces dull, with not one feature being rare or eye-catching. Their voices too were dull and monotone, easy to get mixed and very forgettable. Their appearance was so non-descriptive and easily to miss that it was obvious to a knowing eye what they were - the Unspeakables. These Unspeakable operatives sat exactly bellow the each spike of the five-pointed star with solemn attitudes and backs straight as rullers.  
_

_The only person who stood out like a sore thumb in that glum place was a girl, a young woman, to be exact, dressed in a dark burgundy robe, it's sleeves and edges ornated with golden threads, forming floral patterns, which seemed so out of place. Her face itself was more striking than any of operatives', though in a regular crowd she might not have appeared in any way eye-catching._

_The woman was seated in the centre, sitting on the floor in a lotus pose. Her back was hunched and she was rubbing her temples with both hands that were slightly trembling. She let out a silent sigh and straightened, looking up at the ceiling and then she nodded her consent._

_As one, five unspeakables pointed their wands at her, exclaiming the same spell clearly. It sounded like 'lee-te' but an experienced wizard, knowledgeable in spell crafting, would tell it was a Greek-based spell._

_As soon as five yellow bolts hit the woman, her eyes widened and became vacant and her mouth opened, speaking in a surprisingly deep, emotionless voice that echoed in the circular room._

_"The time of the Storm is approaching._

_Two opposite equals devoted_

_to each cause, either falling or rising..._

_It depends on mistakes made surprisingly._

_The endless River with no end or begging_

_that tangled on itself because of one willing_

_to set a fresh pace, to right the wrongdoings._

_Everything begins in the hands of a soul... whithered._

_The Storm is near, the blood is hot._

_It's time, almost, to rise or fall._

_He either will save or condemn us, or both,_

_So try to remember what you're fighting for..."_

_The words that jumbled from her mouth were vague and misleading. She obviously was making a prophesy and that spell, combined with the ritual setting, put her into a prophetic trance._

_As she caught her breath, relieved from her burden, the Unspeakables themselves were even more solemn and pondered silently. The prophesy was far more vague than they usually were. It could mean dozen different things though one was certain._

_Current peace was just a calm before the storm._

* * *

**4th of June, 1998. London, Ministry of Magic.**

It has been a month since the battle of Hogwarts. The castle was rebuilt, the funerals had been held and Harry has already at least unofficially joined the aurors along with Ron and Neville and few others to help search for leftover death eaters and other Voldemort sympathisers that managed to escape in the middle of havoc that occured after the fall of his regime. The position of acting minister was given to Kingsley who had already proven to have capable hands to handle the post war situation.

Kingsley had already performed a massive clean up in the ministry but there was still so much to do. They needed to give compensations to those wronged by ministry, create new, moral laws, enforce security and above all make sure that nothing resembling this chaos would happen ever again.

Harry, who thought that for his actions he deserved not the order of Merlin that public made him to accept but a vacation (_Long long vacation somewhere warm and sunny like Hawaii.._.), spent the whole month working his arse off by catching criminals, attending funerals and attempting to cope.

The only highlight of the month was the day when he went to visit his godson Teddy. Cute little bugger. Though it was more bittersweet than anything else because it was already few weeks after Remus's and Tonks's funeral and Harry felt more numb than anything else when he tried to think about them. Andromeda, who was an extremely apt person at hiding her emotions, didn't speak to Harry much aside from telling him what to do and what to not do when caring for a baby.

And now it was a month since the end of war and also a month since the deal that Harry made, quite impulsively and perhaps not in his best of mind. Now, finally, Kingsley agreed to let him have a break. Two days of rest were scarcely enough but Harry was the hot topic or _on the tide_ at the moment and because of that he was needed everywhere to do everything (despite his lack of skills or qualifications).

In the past month Harry almost snapped three times at someone, either a journalist or just someone from the crowd. He supposed he should be proud of that small number, at least that was Hermione's (who in haste of retrieving her parents from Australia personally missed quite a few funerals and now was not on best of terms with quite a few people) opinion. Harry, dubious at the turnabout of public opinion, had found himself a few times wishing he was back at the Privet Drive, just an unanimous, unimportant face.

In between the funerals and the raids in which he assisted (he was constantly on the field as they needed to round up the easy catch which quite often didn't even resist when they learned it was Harry Potter who was catching them) Harry finally had time to ponder upon his deal with the Unspeakable. He was reluctant to call her Mary Macdonald because even though he remembered the oath she made in his face that she really was who she claimed to be, the Unspeakable was a connection to his parents. A connection he was reluctant to research.

In the end Harry decided he was acting like a sissy and not the hero he was supposed to be or at least not the hot tempered do-first-think-later guy he definitely was.

And so, though it was his free day, Harry snuck in the Ministry (passing the wards with ease that was really alerting) under his Invisibility cloak in order to view the private archives Ministry kept about all Hogwarts students. The Archives were behind one of the ever closed doors on the second level of Ministry, with only a faded sign hanging on the oak door, in a remote corner between ever reassigned offices like Misuse of Muggle artifacts and Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects office. Harry questioned Kingsley about the archives beforehand and the former auror laughed openly stating that archives were rarely ever entered and room's only occupant was an old bureaucrat who ''was married to the files that were kept there" as the Minister put it.

Hidden from the sight under the third deathly hallow, Harry Potter cast notice-me-not and muffliato charms on the entrance area and tentatively opened the door and slipped through them. Kingsley was right. No one in their right mind would enter this mad house.

The archives were nothing like in Hogwarts's library. The vast room more resembled waste-paper deposit. There were eons upon eons of scrolls of parchment, put in their place chaotically. Peaces of parchment littered the stone floor and were cluttered in piles that seemed to be held together only by magic, and as far as Harry could see, there were piles of books, covering the floor from bottom to top, some even reaching the ornated ceiling. The whole place looked dangerously unstable.

Harry unceremoniously took of his cloak only to turn around at hearing a man's shriek from behind him.

_Thunk!_ Harry, his wand pointed at the offender, was subjected to the hollow sound of a fall.

His eyes grew wide as he saw the cause of such sound. It was a man, an old, wrinkly gentleman, who was now sprawled on the floor looking up at Harry his eyes wide in recognition.

But what really caught eye was the pile of scrolls the man before falling was arranging. It stood behind the old man slightly wavering, shaped like a perfect tetrahedron, except from the absent scroll that the Archivist was distracted from positioning.

They stared at each other for a few minutes and then the old bureaucrat lifted himself off the floor, somehow managing to look dignified and approached Harry with light, tentative steps as if Harry was a cat that was about to pounce and attack him.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, sir." Harry spoke, mentally berating himself for missing the man. "My name is.." Harry tried to introduce himself but was interrupted.

"Harry Potter, yes, I deducted. My name is John Ubbly." The bureaucrat said taking Harry's hand in greeting. Harry almost rolled his eyes but didn't as it would be foolish to alienate a man who could help him. The archivist himself, a man of seventy or eighty years old, looked non plussed at Harry's sneaky entrance and seemed not at all bothered by the disturbance. It was the opposite, in fact as the old man's eyes twinkled merrily.

"What brings _you_ here, if I may ask?" The man asked with slight emphasis on you as if Harry was going against his nature just by being there (and maybe he was) and Harry had to remind himself that among this maze having some assistance was crucial and therefore he couldn't anger the archivist by responding sarcastically as his brain very much desired to. He was really spending too much time with old Muriel...

"I'm looking for records about one person." Harry stated, thinking it was no use beating around the bush.

"Hm. Anything less vague would be welcome." Ubbly stated and Harry saw by the slightly crooked mouth that he was amused by Harry's attempt to be evasive.

"Um..." Harry hesitated. "I'm looking for one Gryffindor, who graduated in 1978." Now Ubbly looked slightly uncomfortable and patted Harry's shoulder awkwardly in an attempt to comfort him. Harry was relieved when he realised that Ubbly thought Harry was looking for papers about one of his parents.

"Come with me." Ubbly said and led the way in that maze of parchment and books.

Eventually they reached the opposite wall and it was covered by long, wooden shelf, containing marked boxes - first sign of some order among this chaotic environment though Harry was unable to comprehend what was written on them, probably a sort of code. Ubbly tapped his wand against the surface of the shelf few times saying clearly "1978, Griffindor." and Harry watched amazed as the boxes made way for one from further on the left that was sliding through the surface of the shelf and halted to a stop at the place where Ubbly's wand had been pointed just moments ago.

The box was marked as "MCMLXXVIII(G)" and Harry finally recognized what the markings stood for. Every box was marked in roman numbers for dates and according to house it had either G, S, H, or R on it.

"I'll leave you to it, then, Mr. Potter." Ubbly said jovially, perhaps a little disappointed that Harry would not be much of an amusement for him and quickly disappeared in the maze making Harry conscious as he was surrounded by towering piles of parchment and it was obvious to him it would be difficult to find his way back. Maybe the archivist thought it funny for Harry potter to get lost there or perhaps he just assumed Harry wanted to be alone and could find his way back, but in any case, since he was already there he might as well concentrate on finding Mary's file.

* * *

The box contained pieces of parchment, fastened together depending on their subject. As he looked for Mary's file, Harry found one with Sirius Black's name on it and later he found document detailing academic life and accomplishments of one James Potter, then Remus's and then his mum's. Harry decided that he had time to view them all and put the box aside for a moment, surprised at thickness of the files recording his dad's and Sirius's academic achievements.

Of course, once he opened one of them, Harry realised that along with grades for seven years of every mid-term and end of term exams the Gryffindors of that year took in their subjects, it also contained a list of detentions they had. It reminded Harry of few detentions he himself had with Snape when the greasy (but heroic) bat had him organise Filch's records of detentions and the name of Marauders' was often there. At that time Harry took this as an insult (as Snape undoubtedly meant for him to take it) but now Harry understood better why professors where so angry when giving detentions - not only the mischief makers where monopolizing their own time but also teachers had to catalogue_ every detention_ and that was rather boring and time consuming. Apparently even wizards had to deal with red-tape.

Harry, who after the war had realized he had time to think about future and his career, thought that after retiring from aurors he could take up post of a defence against the dark arts teacher, decided then and there that he rather train aurors, because giving detentions and reprimanding students took all the joy from teaching them defense (and offense).

After viewing those files, Harry opened his mother's folder. He wasn't surprised when he saw the O's and E's everywhere. There were even comments from teachers about her smashing performance during exams or her extra curriculum projects and he was amazed to find she headed the Charm's club. As Harry looked at the photo of that club which was included, he saw not only his mother but also a girl that looked familiar. The moving picture accurately caught the emotions each person were feeling and that particular girl, around sixteen-years-old looked detached and thoughtful and also seemed to shy away from camera, edging towards the corner or the photo.

"That's her!" Harry exclaimed a little too loudly once he recognized her. So his mother and the unspeakable did know each other well enough then, at least Harry assumed they were if not friends then acquaintances, capable of tolerating each other because that was the only way a club could work. He based this on his own experience with the quidditch team - if you wanted a good team, you had to make sure not only the players were their best but also that their personalities didn't clash with the others. He learned it hard himself, after getting beater's bat to head from the Maclaggen idiot.

Reminded by that photo of the reason Harry came to the Ministry's archives in a first place , he fished out Mary Macdonald's folder, opening it quickly. What he found boggled him. Macdonald's grades were mediocre at best and no teacher wrote any complain or praise about her. She seemed to be invisible even to the staff. Harry frowned. He was sure there was no way to lie after making a magical oath unless you wanted to face the consequences and as far as Harry knew the negative effects kicked in immediately so he would have noticed. Besides, she performed Fidelius charm and that was a charm only highly skilled wizards could manage.

But then, as he turned the papers he came about the page, presenting her O.W.L. results. All O's and E's. It seemed like she had studied hard for the exams to make such progress and starting her sixth year her grades rocketed (when comparing to those she had before her O.W.L.s ). Harry assumed to become an Unspeakable you had to take much more subjects than she did and get all O's. It surprised and quite unnerved how little he knew about the Unspeakables, even though Harry was one of few civilians to ever 'visit' their Headquarters. How could he be sure that anything he read in the files was truth at all when they were so secretive a force that maybe tampering and correcting the records was a necessity.

If it was not a fabrication and everything in the files was truth how, then, a moderate student like Mary became an Unspeakable, dabbling in the most complex and questionable of magics?..

* * *

**16th of March, 1976. Hospital wing, Hogwarts.**

Mary Macdonal was a muggleborn Grifindor witch who was attending her fifth year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. However, it would be incorrect to base all her identity on that sole statement.

Currently she was not at her best. Mary's brown hair were tangled in knots, her eyes were puffy and her hands that she kept in her lap were restless, moving about as if searching reflexively for a wand that was not needed.

Mary was staying in the hospital wing for the night because she was attacked by one of the Slytherins, Mulciber by Dark magic and asides from enormous scare, she also was dealing with aftermath of the spell she was cursed with. Even though Madam Pomfrey, the medi-witch who attended and healed all Hogwarts students, was quite capable and knew healing magic well enough, Mary didn't listen to her orders. She kept herself awake instead of falling asleep because Mary was certain that as soon as she closed her eyes, the worms will crawl out again and...

She felt nauseous again and relieved her stomach contents to the bucket beside her bed once more. The curse Mulciber used or a hex, maybe, as she herself was not that apt in seeing the difference, interfered with her nervous system which was the reason why madam Pomfrey couldn't give Mary dreamless sleep as she feared her body would go into catatonic state if subjected to potions which affected one's mental state.

_Weak, useless mudblood, unworthy of magic_... Those were the words Avery said as he watched Mary being maimed by his friend Mulciber.

_He's right, I couldn't defend myself, I am weak, my grades are mediocre and I have no talents... I don't even know why the hat sorted me into Griffindor, I'm a coward after all._.. Mary's thoughts were dark and depressing, she didn't even feel the tears that began falling down her face, making thin, wet tracks on her pale cheeks. She trembled slightly as she reigned in self pity for the moment.

Mary knew perfectly well she was average. Ordinary. Most would call her even boring as she had no dark secrets, no hobbies, nothing she was particularly good at. Mary liked to read but wasn't mad about books and couldn't devour them like other students (mainly Ravenclaws) managed. She also never quite got the point of quiddtich, making it even harder to fit in with other Gryffindors as almost all of them were if not quidditch fanatics then at least entertained spectators. Because of all that and her mousy appearance Mary faded in the background, becoming just one of the many faces and she usually was fine in that.

Well, she wasn't okay with it anymore. She didn't excel and didn't stand up for her beliefs so Mary made an easy target to Mulciber. And Mulciber, well, he was an idiot! A talentless idiot who bested her only because of his knowledge of borderline Dark curses and because of Mary's laziness to learn defensive spells. Mary was sure he practised truly dark ones as well though that didn't make her feel better as she had no proof of it and there for no chance to get him expelled.

He wasn't even that powerful magically and yet he reduced her to a whimpering little girl. When at eleven years of age she was introduced to the world of magic it was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to her and yet the glamour and novelty of it all had worn off so quickly she stop trying to excel. Growing up in not an especially happy family, Mary was delusioned from idealistic dreams and she quickly understood the place and standing muggleborns such as herself had in magical society, no matter what garbage about equality other wizards sprouted.

That was when she stopped trying to find everything about her new world, disappointed. That was also one of the reasons why she as a third year made herself read and study the laws about muggleborns carefully. It was an eyeopener that made her try even less as Mary decided keeping at shadows was the best policy if she wanted to live a comfortable and safe, if monotonous, life.

But now, lying on a bed in a Hospital wing, Mary had reached an epiphany of sorts. All those years she spent laying about not even bothering to try if not change anything for the better then to learn something worthwhile, made her a perfect victim. The notion was particularly frightening because there was a war, raging in the wizarding Britain. A war whose one of the sides targeted muggleborns especially

_So what if I am useless, they hadn't had the right to do what they did... I will make sure it won't happen ever again._

That was the turning point for one Mary Macdonald. From there on she decided to train to protect herself, study darkest of arts if she had to, in order to know the enemy and be a worthy opponent. There was a war outside the sheltering walls of Hogwarts and if she wanted to survive it intact both in body and mind Mary needed to be strong and adept.

* * *

**23th of March, 1976. Hogwarts.**

It has been a week since Mulciber had assaulted Mary and she was still dealing with the incident's affects. She spent the week occupying her mind by practising defense spells in a remote classroom though that proved to be inefficient and not a perfect place for a private study.

Training was the only way to stop herself from thinking about the assault. It was bad enough that she had nightmares every night about it and she didn't need to think of it during the day.

However, despite her rationalisations, Mary's thoughts still returned back to the incident.

Mary was completely sure that had she been attractive, Mulciber would have used his wand for a different kind of pleasure all together. Never before she was so grateful for being a plain Jane. She, in spite of herself, had imagined such a scenario and had almost relieved contents of her stomach because of it in a middle of Charms's classroom.

It was hard to carry on attending lessons since she became overly jumpy whenever a Slytherin, even a first year one, went by. What was more, Mary was angry at the easy punishment Mulciber got for his stunt, Slughorn stating it to be an unfortunate mishap. Never before had she hated one of her teachers but now she despised one of them so much that she was even tempted to put a curse on him. Along with pitying glances send to her by other Griffindors and the unsuccessful, awkward attempts to draw her into halfhearted conversations, Mary was beginning to feel extremely frustrated.

It didn't help that Dreamless sleep potion couldn't be used regularly without side-effects and thus she had to deal with the nightmares, making her get only few hours of sleep every day.

* * *

_The hex or curse he used was not on the curriculum... There was nothing academic about it, except perhaps the natural curiosity._  
_Mulciber wanted to see the results of his actions and what he saw gave him pleasure. His eyes lit up like he had just smoked some weed Mary seen her muggle cousins experiment with. Glassy eyes and giggly laugh while she..._

_The curse might have been a modification of some sort, even. She knew there was a curse for eating slugs but this..._  
_He disarmed her quickly, laughing at her efforts, and Avery just watched and then Mulciber pointed his wand straight at her stomach and he muttered the Latin incantation..._

_The blue bolt of light struck her and she suddenly felt very gross, disgusted and weakened by the sensation of slugs moving from inside her, against the skin, ripping through muscles and flesh as they dig grooves... Pain, heaps of pain and the slugs or worms moving, circling, ripping..._  
_Mary was bleeding internally and writhing against the cold stone floor as she screamed in agony, cruel laughter of two Slytherins drowning out her cries._

* * *

It was her first hand to hand encounter to the really ugly side of the world she still longed to belong to. While Lily, Marlene and Emmeline - her Griffindor dorm mates all were vocally expressing their want to change the world, to oppose the murdering Death eaters and their megalomaniac Lord and help to finish the war, she, Mary, was starting to feel like nothing mattered anymore. So what if they won? There will always be segregation between muggle-raised and pure-bloods and there will always be that ugly side of magic too.

To be a wizard means to have power at your fingertips. And, of course, the temptation to use that power. To think, believe that wand can fix everything, excluding certain laws of magic but not laws of morality. To know that if you wanted something forgotten, something buried or something created, you could make it so.

Simple do's and don't's are not for wizards and that was lesson she learned bitterly.

* * *

**5th of June, 1998. Hogwarts.**

As Ministry's Archives were not very helpful, Harry decided he would ask Mcgonagall for a favor and visit Hogwart's Library or if there were no information then ask if she had kept any records herself. Harry thought that along with checking if the information he read in the Ministry was legitimate, he would also inquire house elves or maybe portraits, mainly Fat lady, whether they knew or remembered Mary.

Magonagall was uncharacteristically easy to convince. Harry simply wrote a letter to her and sent his new owl - a barn one that didn't stand out (which was Harry's intention all along) to deliver it and couple of hours later she wrote an answer telling him Harry was welcome any time and Macgonagall trusted he 'will not cause any problems and won't disturb anyone just for visiting the greatest magical Library in whole Britain.'

Personally Harry thought she was mellowing with time, or at least was too occupied by her new post as the Headmistress to pay him any mind.

Once he was at Hogwarts, Harry started his snooping. Mary Macdonald, if she cared to learn what Harry was up too, would have laughed at his attempts. She would have told him in that creaky worn out voice that he simply didn't search enough or wasn't that thorough. After all, everything was there, in the castle. Every imprint she did or didn't make, part of her essence was left there and he would have certainly caught her shadow if he knew where and how to look for it.

No one ever wondered how Hogwarts came to be such a magical castle with ghosts about, moving staircases, disappearing and appearing doors and passages and those enormously powerful wards when enchantments are only temporary and wore out eventually. Some, like historians, buried in their books and annals of past events, believed and said that Hogwarts was built upon an ancient magical site that gave power to the castle.

The truth was much simpler. Hogwarts was rather symbiotic in it's nature. The castle gave shelter to students and teachers while their magic sustained the enchantments and wards placed on it.

Though Harry, after seeing that Mary's academic files weren't tampered with, asked Fat lady and few house elves if they remembered her, showing her picture, but not one answer was affirmative and Harry decided to ask Macgonagall herself.

* * *

**26th of March, 1976. Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, Hogwarts.**

Usually Mary was not a sensitive girl. She thought of herself as a girl, capable of controlling her own emotions. And yet the assault from that git Slytherin Mulciber made her a cry baby and her misery was furthered by her own disgust at her emotional reactions. Which was exactly what she was doing in the girl's bathroom of the second floor which girls generally avoided because of the annoying ghost that haunted it.

Mary, from young age had learnt that crying was useless. Her parents were rather strict and quite indifferent to her life so she didn't discuss her feelings with them and Mary had no friends to talk about her worries with. Or, rather, she had acquaintances at school and all her childhood muggle friends drifted away once she left to Hogwarts.

Though Mary knew that Lily Evans, who continued to persistently badger her to come to the charms club, and even Dorcas Meadowes viewed her as a friend, Mary knew it was because she listened to them blab about their worries or dreams and could hold an intelligent conversation even if she wasn't studious and was more interested in watching people interact with each other than obsess over grades.

Her tears became fewer as she sighed and lifted herself up supported by the sink. Mary looked at her expression - forlorn and ashamed. She was glad very few girls ever used the bathroom and that Myrtle, host ghost, was gone, probably to pester male prefects in their bathroom as her usual, pervert self. Her little smile at that visual dropped as she was reminded that Evans, also a prefect, will definitely try to pester her to open up, to help Mary talk it out. Somewhere at the back of her mind she thought that it would be simple to just go along with it and befriend her but Lily was one of those who were absolutely certain they would fight in the war if it would still be happening after they left the school. If she became Lily's friend (a real one) now, Mary too would be sucked in the fighting and she was no fighter.

Even though Mary had vowed she would learn how to defend herself from the Slytherins and those pureblood supremacist that were raging in the outside world, she knew herself good enough to realise that she had no ideals to fight for or protect and wanted to learn offense and defense only to be safe, herself.

She also was rather egotistical and cared about her own survival above anything else.

Mary straightened out and went to kitchens. She had learned of house elves in her first year, entirely by accident as she had fallen asleep in an armchair of Griffindor common room and then awoke as one of those fellows were tidying it up. Since then, the Kitchen was the place she used as a refuge when she needed a soothing company of cheery polite creatures, straight from fairy tales.

The elves themselves liked her well enough and Mary needed a distraction so once in the kitchens she started up somewhat mild conversation listening to the elf, which was attending her, politely, only mildly interested in what it had to say.

".. And, miss, Frilly was so stunned when she seen the two seventh year olds, stamping out Come and Go room, they looked as heated as matured mandrakes, they did!" The old house elf confided in her but Mary interrupted her.

"Come and Go room?" She asked and became cheerier as the elf carried on explaining about the magical room which made almost anything you asked for appear.

A perfect place for anything you could ever wish for. She immediately decided to test its limits.

* * *

**5th of June, 1998. Headmistress office, Hogwarts.**

The gargoyle that guarded Headmasters or at the present Headmistress office was once again in top shape. It regarded Harry with a stone look but then it was a marble statue and he couldn't have expected it to look warmly at Harry. Nevertheless he looked at the thing and tried a few combinations ("Dumbledore", "Victory" and "Potter" were among his tries) but the stone statue remained standing.

Harry sighed and looked around, thinking that maybe a portrait nearby could visit one of those in Macgonagall's office and give her a message. Sure, Harry didn't ask for her to make an appointment with him but he was sure his former head of house would be nice enough to meet him uninvited.

But then he shouldn't have bothered as after a few minutes, the gargoyle itself stepped back as McGonagall descended from the staircase. She gazed at him steadily and Harry thought he saw a hint of smile on her tightly pressed lips but then it could have been the poor lighting, playing tricks on his mind.

"Mr. Potter." She said and stretched out her hand in greeting. After exchanging the required pleasantries they went up to the office and only then, in the brightly lit office Harry noticed that lines on his former professor's face were more apparent than ever. It seemed that new responsibilities were definitely taking their toll on her.

"Please, have a seat." McGonagall invited Harry and he sat down on the chair he sat on quite a few times before. The office wasn't unrecognisable to the way it looked when Dumbledore or later Snape used it but there were some new statues and a few trinkets, decorating it. The only thing that caught Harry's eyes was the humongous pile of parchments on the corner of McGonagall's desk.

"Professor," Harry began, unsure if it was a good idea."I'm sorry about disturbing you but I thought only you could help me."

At this McGonagall looked a little sceptical but only said. "I assume then that Library proved inefficient?" Harry quickly shook his head.

"What I found out in Library only confirmed my information. There was nothing aditional to what I had already found which is why I thought..."

"That I could help you?" McGonagall finished and Harry nodded seriously. McGonagall let out a silent sigh, Harry wouldn't have noticed the gesture if he hadn't been looking straight at her.

"Very well, then. What is it that you think I know, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, Pro.. Headmistress, it's about one of former Griffindor graduates. She graduated at the same time my parents did." Harry said and he stopped himself from cringing at the sympathetic look McGonagall sent him.

"Hm.. Which one, there were quite a few of them."

"Mary Macdonald, Professor." Harry asked and watched as Mcgonagall frowned in thought. Unseen by him, Dumbledore's portrait, which was positioned on the wall directly behind McGonagall's chair and which was pretending to sleep when Harry came in the office, startled at that and opened his blue twinkly eyes wide, his expression disturbed.

* * *

**29th of June, 1976. Unspeakable HQ, Ministry of Magic, London.**

"Finally." An unspeakable, dressed in customary ordinary looking black robe, his or her face unclear in the dim light, said. The voice was quite deep but then voice of every Unspeakable, even their Head of Department, sounded exactly the same so it was impossible to tell the speaker's gender or age.

The unspeakable was alone in the room, it was a small, narrow room, with only a notice board on the wall, displaying the rota of the Unpeakables. Suddenly there was some shuffling behind the figure and the Unspeakable turned the head to look at colleague.

"Happy with the change, eh, Rook?" The newcomer asked, using Rook's codename. It was a necessity in their line of job and only very few of Unspeakables used their own names, making themselves unnecessary targets, as there were more than enough of mercenaries who would get generously paid by various interested parties for hunting and getting out information from Unspeakables.

Usually those Unspeakables were either very brave and confident in their abilities or simply didn't care if something mallicious happened to them.

"It's agreeable. Looks like you still have to maul the brains, Croaker." Rook answered, a little more harshly. Croaker was senior to Rook and more than once had got much better assignments than Rook did.

Though there were some Unspeakables that only studied one aspect of magic, created only things in their line of interest, most of the Unspeakables moved around. The head of the department usually stuck them working in the sphere they were most successful at, though sometimes it was used as a demotion.

While Croaker was an Unspeakable who was used to working with discoveries of secrets of human brains, Rook moved around. Rook used to work in the Time room but now more recently the undpeakable found theirself in the Prophesy hall or working with their resident seer 'Agog', documenting the predictions Agog made. Sometimes Rook renewed the duplicating charms on the Prophesy bubbles and when their healer contact alerted them Rook visited St. Mungo's birth centre incognito and put the Matriculation charm on babies with prophetic gift. The charm would start recording immediately what the seer experienced - be it visions, words, smells, once the seer entered a catatonic state or trance as some dubbed it.

While to some Rook's job would have looked interesting, the Unspeakable was bored sick with it and the job was getting tyringly repetitive which was why Rook rejoiced once it was known Unspeakable's next assignment was to watch the Scrying room, used to keep track of all magical activity occuring in Great Britain.

* * *

Rook was an alter ego of one Augustus Rookwood, former Slytherin and a mysterious bloke to all round public. He was taken in by the Department of Mysteries after they caught him successfully cheating through his N.E.W.T. exams. Rookwood never was a particularly studious fellow, as he was content to fade in the background as not to be noticed by other house mates but he was very sly and skilled. Strangely enough the Unspeakable that was witnessing the whole N.E.W.T.s as it was a standard procedure to catalogue strengths and weaknesses of all Hogwart's graduates didn't interrupt or gave Rookwood away, once he noticed Rookwood's cheating.

Instead he approached Rookwood with a suggestion to either choose to accept invitation to Department of Mysteries or get exposed as a cheater. Since it was not much of a choice Rookwood became an Unspeakable and found out he was quite good at the job.

At the moment, Rook was sitting in the Scrying room. It was an office with only one magical device in it - the scrying crystal.

Had a muggle entered the room they would have been shocked at the blatant negation of Earth's gravity. The stand in the middle of the room was made entirely from gold and a simple hand drawn map of all Great Britain was stuck to it. The scrying crystal, used to find things it was programmed to, was hovering horizontally above the map, sometimes moving from one location on the map to another.

Only Unspeakables had any knowledge of this room. The scrying device in it was an old invention. The runes that orned the corners of the golden board matched the runes placed on stones all over Britain. The whole idea was that any powerful magic made in the area, restricted by those ward stones could be tracked down except if it was done in an Unplotabble location like Hogwarts or a place under the Fidelius charm. It's purpose was different that of traces which were used by the Ministry as a tool to protect the statute of Secrecy and at the same time make sure Muggleborns and muggle-raised wizards had less practise over the summer making them appear less talented at magic than magically raised ones.

Though that particular device would have been useful to DMLE to trace dark wizards, Unspeakables told no one outside department about it. Unspeakables had a rather bleak experience when it came to cooperating with Law Enforcement as it proved detrimental for them in the past and they were scholars first and foremost which was the official reason why it they didn't use the invention to protect the public.

Rook, after spending few hours looking at the map, which was mostly stable and only few times the crystal had shifted from the Ministry, Hogsmeade or Diagon alley - being the places with the largest wizard populations, had finally sagged on the sofa he had conjured and let himself rest, sipping from the flask he always carried with him.

The crystal was not perfectly accurate. It originally was created by the order from DMLE head in 1812 during British - American war that occurred in both worlds to record the places where dark magic was used. Unfortunately, overpowered spells even neutral ones would also register. And so sometimes even their own British aurors got killed by the Unspeakables send to investigate the disturbances.

Over the time, the crystal became just a nice trinket to collect data from. And right now Rook, instead of cataloguing every little change on the map, lay flat on the sofa, idly pondering about the Catapults and their disastrous game against the Tornadoes the previous weekend.

It was then, when out of nowhere the alarm went of, the crystal bright red and spinning in the air, creating a whooshing sound.

Rook shot out of the sofa, running towards the board, the runes ornating it were shining brightly as if aflame. The location crystal was pointing at was inconspicuous - just a small town in the southern England.

"Red alert?" Rook said to himself out loud, his voice full of disbelief.

Red alert was a position when extremely powerful magic was performed repeatedly at the same place. Usually it indicated that a dark wizard was at large. However, Rook was sure it wasn't Voldemort as the new Dark Lord performed magic at an Unplotable location and rarely went out to battles himself, preferring to be the monster of the shadows.

Rook noted the coordinates and rushed out the room towards the apparition point. Finally, he was getting some action.

* * *

**29th of June, 1976. Trowbridge, England.**

"Damn!" A girl, approximately sixteen years of age cursed not very lady like as she shook her hands once more and stretched her shoulders making a cracking sound. She was in a clearing in the middle of woods, the ground was littered with splinters of destroyed tree trunks.

She lifted her left hand and pointed at another trunk.

"Exeso Libra!" An orange spell shot out her wand, hurling towards the trunk in strangely not a straight pattern. It was wobbling and once it reached the trunk it seemed to dissolve into it, running both upwards and downwards.

The trunk that flashed in orange for a second began to wobble and after few seconds the roots gave in and the tree came down straight at the girl. Her eyes were wide as she mentally berated herself for her stupidity and yet she felt as if frozen to her feet.

"παύση!" A man shouted out something sounding like _path-see_ and the blood red spell made the damaged tree freeze in place, hovering just a couple of centimetres above the girl.

Moments passed and Mary calmed down, studying the other wizard who had save her from certain death in befuddlement.

"I believe you and I have much to talk about, girl." The tall wizard in the black cloak said, the sound sending shivers down Mary's spine. She wondered if the wizard was a death eater and also wondered how in hell he had found her after she got the untraceable wand from the Knockturn alley but despite all that she managed to put herself together and nod.

"I think so too." She answered, quietly and hoped that she'll still be alive and okay the next day.

* * *

**5th of June, 1998. Gringotts bank, London.**

Briarfang, the current head of Gringotts and also one of the members of Goblin Guild that decided upon courses of action and general goblin activities, sat in a comfy chair, absently playing with his favorite knife. He admired the sharp edge of the blade, the flickering lights it created and the rune carvings on it's handle.

He was so absorbed in his observations that the old goblin didn't even notice the rustling sound and the clicking noise of hurried steps outside the doors of his office. Then, as if after hesitating, the huge doors opened slightly to reveal another goblin.

Briarfang looked up with annoyed expression.

"This better be important." He said in Gobbledok. The other goblin nodded.

"Harry Potter has come to Gringotts." The goblin answered, making Briarfang frown. "And is resquesting a meeting about his vaults." He continued explaining.  
The head goblins eyes widened in shock before he masked it and with an expert move of his fingers, stabbed the knife into his table. A marble table, at that.

"Very well, then." He grunted, standing up.

_How did Potter find out about the Peverell vault? Who told him about it? Is there another traitor in here?_ was the thought that continued to rummage through the goblins mind as he approached the room where the source of his problems was.

He intended to keep Potter in the dark about the vault that was one of the oldest and, no dobt, would be extremely beneficial to Potter who really didn't deserve any benefits.


End file.
